


Shoot to Kill

by misura



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Careful. I might begin to think there's more to you than a pair of pretty eyes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot to Kill

He's seen her shoot; seeing her prepare for the coming battle should not come as any kind of shock. Among the Woad, when there is need, the women fight. This is known.

_Luckily, they never saw the need when it was_ us _they were fighting against._

"That blue looks good on you."

He knows how to talk to a fellow knight on the eve of battle, and how to talk to a woman on the verge of either slapping him silly or conceding that he is, indeed, rather good-looking. (Vanora denies the latter ever happens, but then, Vanora's taste in men is clearly suspect.)

"Would you like some, too?" She grins at him, one hand already reaching for the paint.

He imagines the expression on Arthur's face if he were to report for combat tomorrow adorned like a Woad. _That alone might almost be worth it._ "A kind offer, but no."

"Smart," she says. "I don't think it quite goes with your eyes, does it?"

"Actually, it is just that I would prefer to defeat my enemies with my superior skills, rather than dazzle them with my good looks."

"How merciful of you. But yes, best we leave the paint where it is, then. After all - " (she is not, he notices belatedly, wearing much in the way of clothes, and that which she does wear she is able to discard with ridiculous ease) " - there are a great many lonely women out there. Men, too, I'm sure."

"I believe it is the women that worry me more right now." _Specifically, the one right here._

"Careful. I might begin to think there's more to you than a pair of pretty eyes."

"They _are_ pretty, are they not?" His mouth feels a little dry.

"Let me take a closer look," she says. Up close, she smells of earth and leaves and of something vaguely sweet - the paint, probably. "Hm. Not bad at all. I wouldn't want you to get all conceited when I call them 'pretty', though. After all, no woman wants to marry a conceited man. Or even kiss one."

_What man, pray tell, could grow conceited with you to keep him humble?_

"I shall be sure to keep that in mind."

"Do." Her lips are close enough to his ear to feel her breath. Her expression when she pulls back a little to look at him is amused. "You might make a tolerable husband one day. If you keep your good looks and work hard."

_Say rather, if I survive tomorrow._

"Is it really that easy?" He wants to kiss her, but that seems suicidally stupid. Much better to want _her_ to kiss _him_ ; the chances of survival seem slightly better there.

"Absolutely," she says, and reads his mind as if it were a book.

(It occurs to him, as she pushes him back until he's leaning against something solid enough to hold his weight, that a woman of the Woad probably doesn't know how to read.)

(Other things, though, she knows how to do very well indeed.)


End file.
